


Like a Bird Set Free

by AClosedFicIsNeverRead



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awesome Sheriff Stilinski, Dancer Stiles Stilinski, Depression, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Derek Hale Takes Care of Stiles Stilinski, Drug Use, Feels, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nogitsune Trauma, Non-Evil Peter Hale, Pack Feels, Peter Hale Ships Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale is a Little Shit, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Suicidal Thoughts, The Jungle (Teen Wolf)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:09:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28459536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AClosedFicIsNeverRead/pseuds/AClosedFicIsNeverRead
Summary: Danny grinned and held his hands up for dramatic effect as he declared, “I think Stiles and Derek Hale are secret lovers.”A geyser of root beer erupted from Scott’s nose and mouth, followed by the surprised shouts of Lydia and Erica as they dodged the surge. Malia snarled in irritation as some splashed her shirt. Scott stood from the table as he coughed and fought for air. Kira clapped him on the back while Isaac helped Lydia and Erica pile napkins on the soda-soaked table.“You… what?” Scott wheezed once the table was wiped down and the commotion had finally died down. “You think… WHAT?”- OR -The one where Stiles is secretly not doing okay (like, at all) after the Nogitsune and Derek (and Peter, surprisingly) help him heal.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 55
Kudos: 347





	1. Chapter 1

The sound of sneakers squeaking to an abrupt halt caused every head at the table to swivel toward the new arrival. Danny slid in to sit at the end of the table, glancing around the cafeteria rapidly searching for someone.

The group exchanged glances ranging from concern to confusion to amusement.

“Danny…” Lydia greeted, arching a brow as she took in his appearance.

Danny turned toward them, biting his lips as he fought to contain his smile. “Where’s Stiles?”

“Overslept,” Scott answered as he returned his attention to his plate. He popped a few fries into his mouth before adding, “He’ll be in to catch the last few periods of the day, though. Why?”

Ethan arrived at that moment, took one look at his boyfriend, and rolled his eyes. “ _Jesus_ , babe. You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

Danny waved him off. “Hush. This is earth-shatteringly important and must be discussed immediately.”

Ethan sighed heavily and dropped down into his seat, clearly disagreeing with Danny broaching whatever had him so worked up. 

“Oh yeah? What’s so ‘earthshattering’?” Scott asked, taking a gulp of his soda.

Danny grinned and held his hands up for dramatic effect as he declared, “I think Stiles and Derek Hale are secret lovers.”

A geyser of root beer erupted from Scott’s nose and mouth, followed by the surprised shouts of Lydia and Erica as they dodged the surge. Malia snarled in irritation as some splashed her shirt. Scott stood from the table as he coughed and fought for air. Kira clapped him on the back while Isaac helped Lydia and Erica pile napkins on the soda-soaked table.

“You… what?” Scott wheezed once the table was wiped down and the commotion had finally died down. “You think… _WHAT_?”

Danny looked around the cafeteria to ensure everyone else had gone back to their own conversations after Scott’s rather public near-drowning. Once satisfied, he turned back to the group and leaned in close.

Everyone else leaned forward curiously to hear what he had to say.

“Okay, so last night Ethan and I were at The Jungle…”

“On a school night?” Isaac asked in a feigned scandalized tone.

“ _Ooh_ , shame shame, boys,” Erica teased.

Danny rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah. Anyway… so, who did we see there but _Stiles_. Drunk as hell, rolling his ass off by the looks of it, and dancing like there was no tomorrow.”

“What?!” Isaac laughed.

“ _Our_ Stiles?” Erica asked in surprise, pausing in chewing on her straw.

“Why didn’t he invite us?” Malia griped.

Scott’s brows drew together as he frowned deeply. He had no idea Stiles had gone out drinking. Usually they drank together. Well, not that they had in a long time, come to think of it… Not since it became clear that Scott could no longer get wasted. Scott guessed that probably took the fun out of it for Stiles… And ‘rolling’? Since when did Stiles ever do drugs in public without anyone around to keep an eye on him? He was smarter than that. They had a long-standing rule: buddy system any time they were inebriated.

Scott shifted uncomfortably, greatly disliking the feeling that he was missing something important. He glanced around to the rest of the group, silently asking whether anyone else knew about this. Everyone just shrugged and shook their heads.

“You know… he can actually dance pretty freaking awesome for being such a spaz the rest of the time,” Ethan commented. 

“Again – _OUR_ Stiles?” Erica demanded with wide eyes.

“Nope,” Jackson scoffed incredulously, shaking his head. “No way. I call bullshit.”

“No… Ethan’s right,” Scott offered somewhat hoarsely. He blinked repeatedly, shifting in his seat to shake off his growing tension. Clearing his throat, he looked over to Jackson and assured, “Stiles is… I mean, he’s always been… too self-conscious to dance in front of anybody, but, yeah, I’ve seen it. If he’s relaxed, he’s like… _ridiculously_ good.”

Lydia’s eyes widened in surprise while Erica cackled in near-maniacal glee.

Danny nodded in emphatic agreement. “It’s like Stiles’ superpower. When he puts his mind to it, he can channel all that constant hyperactive awkward energy into being sexy as hell.”

“Hey!” Ethan chided, swatting Danny’s shoulder.

Danny slapped a hand down on the table and squawked back at his boyfriend, “What?! He was HOT! Am I wrong?” he challenged.

Ethan opened his mouth to argue, but then paused and tilted his head. His brow furrowed as he considered it. After a second, he pursed his lips and gave an impressed nod. “Okay, fine. You’re right,” he relented.

“See?!” Danny said and smiled victoriously.

“Wait, seriously?” Kira asked, smiling brightly. She was immensely pleased at the prospect of Stiles coming out of his shell, blossoming into something that had everyone envious or proud. From what she had seen since arriving in Beacon Hills, Stiles was long overdue a win. He had been through hell and deserved every happiness.

Malia shrugged and continued eating, pausing to add around a mouthful of food, “Well, sex was always extremely satisfying with Stiles, so I’m not surprised. I know he can move his body a hell of a lot better than any of the guys I’ve slept with since we broke up.”

Jackson dropped his sandwich dramatically and curled his lip in disgust. “Ugh, _GOD_ , can you all _please_ stop using the words ‘ _sex’_ and ‘ _Stiles’_ together? I am _trying_ to eat here!”

Erica shoved Jackson’s shoulder and rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to Ethan, Danny, and Malia. “So you guys are telling me Batman’s got the moves?” she asked with a wicked grin. “Oh, this I gotta see.”

“You definitely do!” Danny insisted before adding, “And it might not be hard because – get this – apparently Stiles is a regular there. I asked one of the bouncers. He’s been there like 4 to 5 times a _week_ for the past month. Ethan and I usually only go maybe once on the weekend, which is probably why we’ve never seen him there before.”

Lydia held up a hand, now thoroughly intrigued. “Okay, so… back up a bit. What does any of this have to do with Derek?”

Danny’s grin dialed up several thousand kilowatts and he clapped his hands as he bounced in his seat.

Ethan rolled his eyes and groaned. “You could really just stop there, babe,” he muttered in vain. He knew there was no use, though. Danny looked as if it would cause him physical harm to hold this in any longer.

Danny took a deep breath, waving his hands to calm himself so he could get it out. “So… Stiles was there on the dancefloor, eyes closed and feeling the music. Absolutely letting loose. Dancing with guys, girls – whatever, whoever – everyone and anyone. And I was just stuck watching with my mouth hanging open like ‘whhhaaatttt?!’ Then Stiles got super excited when ‘Cheap Thrills’ by Sia came on and he started singing at the top of his lungs. And you know that part in the song where she sings, _‘No I ain’t got cash, I ain’t got cash, but I got you, baby!_ ’?”

The others nodded, glancing over in amusement at Isaac and Boyd when they both sang the line quietly.

The girls burst out laughing.

“What?” Isaac asked seriously with an arched brow. “It’s an awesome song.”

Danny nodded. “Oh, it is. Total anthem. But _anyway_ … Well, I realized that Stiles kept pointing at somebody at the bar whenever he was singing that line, right? Like he stopped dancing and winked for ‘ _but I got you, baby’_ and everything. And no lie, OH MY _GAWD!_ , I looked over to see who he was singing to and DEREK FREAKING HALE was sitting at the bar watching Stiles and – hand up to God! – Derek was SMILING. And LAUGHING.”

Every jaw dropped open in disbelief.

The straw Erica had been chewing clattered noisily as it fell to the table.

Danny waited for a solid, silent two minutes while everyone processed this information.

“ _Our_ _DEREK_?” Erica finally whispered in amazement.

Isaac frowned and asked in genuine curiosity, “Has… anyone _…_ ever… heard Derek laugh?”

Several of them shook their heads.

Lydia’s eyes narrowed suspiciously as she looked to Scott and deadpanned, “So, what are we thinking? Shapeshifter? Changeling? Body snatcher? Surely something truly nefarious, right?”

Scott could only shake his head in reply, still struggling to get his brain to compute.

Ethan spoke up, sparing Scott having to attempt to form words just yet. “I took nosy over here home at that point, wanting to give the guys some privacy. Couldn’t convince him to keep it to himself, though,” he grumbled.

“Wow…” Boyd breathed.

“For real…” Isaac agreed, looking dazed.

Silence descended over the table again for a couple of minutes and, gradually, the mood changed.

Malia’s brows drew together as she struggled to identify all the confusing emotions swirling around inside her head.

Kira spoke up first. “Does anyone else feel kinda… wrong… for knowing this?” she asked with a wince. “I mean, not like it’s wrong at _all_ if they are together, but more like…”

“Like it’s none of our damned business?” Lydia finished pointedly.

“Yeah.” “Definitely.” “Absolutely.” the others murmured.

Even Jackson let out a low grunt of agreement.

Ethan gave Danny’s shoulder a light shove before holding his hand up toward their reactions, as if to say, ‘I told you so!’

Danny deflated and groaned. “I _knowwwww!_ I’m a terrible person and I’m sorry! But I couldn’t _not_ say anything. It was killing me. I barely lasted until lunch.”

“We absolutely cannot ask Stiles about this,” Lydia declared resolutely, her eyes passing around the group to make sure everyone agreed (lest they suffer her wrath.)

“No… _but_ …” Scott began reluctantly.

“But what?” Lydia challenged.

“I sorta feel like I want to ask Derek, maybe?” Scott said, sounding incredibly unsure. “Like… why is Stiles out partying on school nights? Why is he drinking and doing drugs and not telling me about it? It feels like…”

Lydia sighed. “Like… maybe this has something to do with the Nogitsune?”

Malia’s eyes widened in understanding, finally able to pinpoint what was causing the churning sensation in her stomach. “Like maybe he’s not as okay as he seems?” she asked worriedly. Stiles and her might not have worked as a couple – well, aside from the great sex – but he was still one of her favorite people. She let out an involuntary growl of displeasure at the idea of him dealing with issues without the pack being aware.

Scott swallowed hard and nodded. “I just… I want to know he’s okay.” 


	2. Chapter 2

“Stiles is fine.” Derek answered simply.

The group of worried teenagers had arrived at his door barely an hour after school let out. Derek was busily moving furniture around his loft, not even taking a moment to look at them. His jaw was tight as he attempted to ignore their presence as much as possible.

Erica scented the air, frowning and glancing around at the other weres for confirmation of what she was smelling. She mouthed: ‘Stiles’ sweat?’ and watched as Isaac and Boyd nodded. Malia nodded and pointed over to a pile of gym mats stacked against the far wall. Erica bit her lips to keep from commenting on it.

Malia’s eyes glowed blue as she turned her gaze to the couch. She could smell Stiles there as well, but it was a different scent. She closed her eyes and breathed in the familiar aroma deeply. It was the scent of Stiles’ sleep – relaxed, but also anxious and grief-stricken at some point. Stiles had rested there on multiple occasions. He had nightmares there.

“Okay, yeah,” Scott offered lamely. “But… um… I was just wondering because like… he hasn’t told me anything about going out.”

Derek turned and met Scott’s gaze directly, his expression unreadable as he replied evenly, “Right. Sounds like a pretty clear indication that he didn’t want to talk about it.”

Scott’s features twisted in misery at that, his eyes taking on what Stiles often referred to as his ‘kicked puppy look.’ Derek had never seen what the big deal was about those watery, brown eyes – as always, he felt no inclination whatsoever to alleviate the younger wolf’s misery in response. Although, admittedly, Derek’s annoyance over Scott’s questions might have left him even less open to influence than usual.

The sound of the elevator engaging on the ground floor drew everyone’s notice, but within seconds they had all caught the scent and sounds associated with Peter and relaxed (at least as much as they ever would around Peter.)

Derek went back to moving furniture, sliding the massive sectional couch back to its usual position.

The elevator reached their floor and Peter approached, sliding the fire door open and grinning at the scene before him.

“Ah… did I arrive in time for the inquisition?” Peter asked in amusement. He walked around the group, winking over at Malia while carrying his bags into the kitchen.

Erica reached down and nudged Lydia’s arm, directing her attention to the presence of a suspicious amount of junk food mixed in among the older wolf’s purchases. The idea that Peter would ever eat anything as horrendously pedestrian as Wild Berry Pop Tarts or Mountain Dew flavored Doritos was simply not within the realm of possibility. That was teenager food. _Stiles_ food.

Scott stuffed his hands into his pockets and hung his head, averting his gaze as he went on. “Look, Derek, um… I’m not asking to pry. I’m just… I’m worried about him, that’s all. He’s my brother. And I kind of have this feeling in my gut that this isn’t just him partying for fun. And the fact that you don’t want to talk about it…” His eyes widened as he shook his head. “I mean, I had no idea you guys were even _close_ but… I don’t think it’s because you two are… like… together or anything… I mean, you’re not. Right?” He risked a glance up at Derek’s face to gauge his reaction.

The other wolves shifted uneasily as Derek’s mood visibly darkened.

“ _Here we go_ …” Peter muttered, biting back a grin as he leaned on the counter to observe.

Derek’s brow arched as he turned his body fully toward the younger wolf. He crossed his arms over his broad chest and planted his feet. Displeasure radiated from him as his jaw flexed. He studied Scott for a moment before taking a purposeful step closer. “Scott? Stiles is still a minor. We are most definitely not ‘ _together or anything_.’ From my personal experience, statutory rape doesn’t result in a healthy relationship or happy outcome for anyone involved.”

There were several winces as the others shifted uncomfortably at the casual reference to what Kate had done to him as a teen.

“Fair point,” Peter breathed.

Derek went on, ducking his head to make eye contact with a suddenly guilt-ridden Scott. “As for the rest of your questions? I’d say let it go. Leave it alone. But I know you won’t. And… honestly… if I were in your position…” He rolled his eyes and admitted reluctantly, “…I probably wouldn’t either. I will tell you this right now: do _NOT_ ask Stiles…”

“Told you,” Lydia muttered in a singsong voice.

The side of Derek’s mouth lifted almost imperceptibly at Lydia’s words as he continued. “And I won’t give you any answers – I can’t without breaking his confidence, and that’s not something I’m willing to do. So, that leaves you with one option if you really want to continue this. Ask the Sheriff.”

“Mr. Stilinski?” Scott asked in shock.

_________________________________________________

**2 MONTHS AGO…**

“Sheriff Stilinski?” Derek answered roughly, wiping the sleep from his eyes. He glanced over at his alarm clock, his brows drawing together worriedly when he saw that it was 1:44 AM.

“The sheriff? At this hour?” he heard Peter mutter from the living room, clearly still awake and able to hear everything.

“Yeah. Sorry to call so late,” Noah sighed on the other end of the line.

“No, it’s no problem,” Derek assured. “What’s going on?”

“I was… well, I was hoping I could get your help with something,” Noah said hesitantly.

Derek frowned and sat up in bed, suddenly awake and growing more concerned by the second. “Is everything alright? Is Stiles okay?”

Noah let out a short, bitter laugh at the question. He swallowed hard rather than replying. “You, uh, mind if I come there to talk?” he asked. “It’s not really a phone call kind of discussion.”

Derek nodded before speaking, climbing to his feet, and moving over to his dresser to find something to wear. “Yeah. Come on over. We’re up.” Recalling the many issues between Noah and Peter in the past, he offered, “Should I tell Peter to clear out?”

Peter huffed in indignation and sighed, “Oh, now you’re just being cruel.” Derek could hear him tossing the book he had been reading onto the coffee table.

“Actually…” Noah began reluctantly. “…believe it or not, no. He, uh, he might be able to help with this, too.”

Derek’s eyes widened at that. He looked over to find Peter sliding in through his open bedroom door, head tilted and looking equally bewildered.

“O…kay…” Derek managed in surprise. “How soon can we expect you?”

“About 15 minutes,” Noah answered.

“Alright. See you soon,” Derek answered.

As the call disconnected, Derek stared down at his phone thoughtfully.

“What do you suppose would bring him to our doorstep in the middle of the night?” Peter pondered.

“ _My_ doorstep,” Derek corrected distractedly, though his concern for what might be wrong took all the heat from his words. “And he knows he can come to me any time,” he noted, then looked over at Peter skeptically. “What I’m wondering is what could possibly have him so desperate that he would actually consider also turning to _you_ for help.”

Peter slid his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. Tilting his head back, he nodded as he pursed his lips. “Hmm… True. The sheriff and I have rarely seen eye to eye. So, whatever it is has to be serious enough that he is willing to put aside his general distaste for me.” After considering it for a moment, he offered, “Perhaps he needs someone to meet a particularly painful and permanent end?”

Derek shook his head. “If that was the case, he would just tell me and let me decide who else to involve.”

Peter shrugged. “Well, then it’s a mystery. Or, at least, it _will_ be a mystery for another…” he glanced down at his watch, “…13 minutes or so. I’ll put coffee on. You look like you could use it.”

Derek grumbled in agreement before turning his attention back to grabbing clothes from his dresser.

When the patrol car eventually pulled into the parking lot outside, Derek and Peter were each listening carefully. Peter frowned as he counted the heartbeats and met Derek’s eyes. “Three,” he whispered, watching as his nephew nodded in agreement.

They strained to hear more information, but no conversation took place outside beyond the Sheriff muttering a quick, “I’ll call down in a few. Sit tight.” They listened to him shutting the car door behind him and making his way inside.

“Three midnight visitors. Aren’t we popular?” Peter joked before asking in gleeful intrigue, “But who could our two mystery guests be, I wonder?”

Derek rolled his eyes. He made his way over to the door, sliding it open as he listened to the elevator starting up.

When Noah reached their floor and opened the elevator, Derek’s brows drew together worriedly. The older man looked weary and wrung out. Derek inhaled deeply through his nose to scent him. He winced at what his senses perceived, the story the numerous scents told.

“ _Stiles_ …” Peter whispered in concern behind him, having caught the same.

Noah paused mid-step, his eyes wandering apprehensively from one worried werewolf to the other. “You two can smell that?” he breathed in surprise.

Derek nodded solemnly but did not know what to say. “Tell us,” he said softly instead, wanting to give the man the opportunity to speak.

Noah ran a hand across his forehead as he made his way into the loft, trying to massage away the headache that was quickly taking up residence behind his eyes.

“Coffee?” Peter offered, leading the way over to the kitchen.

Noah glanced at Derek cautiously, causing Peter to huff.

“It’s not poisoned, I swear,” Peter insisted, holding up his hands in innocence.

Noah grunted incredulously. “Sounds like the sort of thing a man who just poisoned the coffee might say.”

Peter waved off the comment before grabbing a third mug from the cabinet. “Now, now. No need to exchange barbs. We’re all friends here. Did you want cream and sugar with your arseni– ?” Peter stopped abruptly and bit his lip, acting as if he had nearly slipped, then amended teasingly, “I mean… _coffee_?” He flashed a deliberately unsettling grin.

Derek sighed heavily and glanced over at Noah. “Are you sure I can’t have him clear out?”

The side of Noah’s mouth lifted in a ghost of a smile. “Cream and two sugars. Thank you.”

“See? Was that so hard?” Peter joked.

Peter handed over the steaming mug a moment later. When Noah’s eyebrows raised in pleasant surprise after he took the first sip, Peter smiled smugly.

“It’s the ethylene glycol from the antifreeze. The sweetness really compliments the caramel, don’t you think?” Peter taunted.

Noah gave him a forced glare in reply, although he made a point of taking another gulp of the unfairly delicious coffee as he did it.

Peter chuckled at that.

The trio settled into a brief silence. 

After a moment, Derek asked quietly, “Is he waiting out in the car?”

Noah winced and stared down into his coffee, nodding silently.

Derek took a steadying breath. “Deputy Parrish is out there with him?”

Noah nodded again.

“Is he going to be okay waiting while we talk?” Derek asked.

Clearing his throat and rubbing his eyes with a shaking hand to wipe away the gathering, unwanted moisture there, Noah nodded again.

“Okay,” Derek said, content to wait now that he had covered those points. He put his hand on Noah’s shoulder, giving it squeeze of support before turning his attention to his own coffee.

The wolves waited patiently for the man to figure out how to start. They knew the gist of what they were about to hear, but they wanted him to tell them what he was comfortable with.

“It’s uh… been a long few months since, you know, everything that happened,” he finally began, gesturing with his hand to fill in the blanks. He was, of course, referring to Stiles’ possession by the Nogitsune and all the suffering that had gone along with it. “Stiles seemed to be doing okay at first. Well, no… ‘As okay as you could expect’ is a better way of putting it, I guess. He was quieter. Slower. Less energetic. More withdrawn. Struggled to eat. Spent a lot of time in his room, but not nearly enough time sleeping, if the bags under his eyes were any indication. He was having night terrors every time he nodded off, but, uh… he didn’t want help with any of it.” Noah struggled to swallow down the lump that was rising in his throat. “He bought restraints to keep him from sleep walking. Asked me not to come in whenever he woke up screaming. Made me swear to never mention any of it to any of you.”

Peter’s brows drew together curiously. “Didn’t he still go to school with the others? I mean, I know he hasn’t been around here, but surely he gave outward indications that something was wrong. No one noticed?”

“This is Stiles we’re talking about,” Noah answered with a sad smile. “He did his research. He knew you all would be able to tell he was struggling. So, he decided to find ways to prevent that from happening. At first, he was showering and washing his clothes compulsively, using these special oils and soaps, doing a million little things every day to try and make everyone think he was okay. After a couple of weeks, he had tracked down these amulets to hide his real scent and heartrate from all of you. He never took them off.”

Derek’s heart clenched at that revelation. He had made up excuses to personally check on Stiles several times in the past few months. He never sensed anything wrong. He had even listened outside the house on multiple nights when the Sheriff was working to assure himself that Stiles was home and safe after everything. But he had always found the house silent aside from Stiles’ steady heartbeat. He winced as he considered the fact that Stiles had probably been lying awake every time… or simply sitting still, staring off into space… or _God_ , maybe he had been having a screaming nightmare and had used something to mask his cries from outside ears, as well… Derek felt sick just considering it.

“Damn, that is one smart kid,” Peter muttered, impressed by the efforts he had taken to cover his tracks.

Derek glared over at his uncle reproachfully.

Peter stood up straight and held up a hand. “I’m not saying I approve of his actions or his reasoning, I’m just acknowledging that he was extremely intelligent and thorough in how he accomplished his goals.”

Noah snorted derisively and nodded. “Oh, he was definitely thorough. He put so much effort into hiding it from you all… He said he just wanted to deal with it on his own. Wanted everyone to have time to recover from their own traumas without worrying about him. I sure as hell didn’t like it, but who am I to tell him how to heal after something like that? And for a while, he managed. But then… he had a bad day a couple weeks ago.”

At the fresh wave of misery suddenly rolling off the human in their midst, Peter frowned and pointed at the coffee mugs. “Should we Irish these up a bit?”

Noah arched a brow and glanced up at Peter suspiciously. A second later, he pleaded, “Aw, hell. Don’t make me like you, damn it. A man can only take so much!”

Peter fought back a smile. “I’d never dream of it, Sheriff. I vow to get under your skin at every possible opportunity,” he assured as he moved over to retrieve a bottle from one of the cabinets.

Noah sighed. “Well, in that case, yeah. Knock yourself out.” He slid his mug forward, inclining his head in thanks when Peter slid it back after adding a generous serving of whiskey.

Noah took a sip and exhaled slowly into the mug. He took a moment to gather his thoughts before continuing. “I don’t know when exactly the drinking… or the drugs started… I guess while he was trying to secretly wade his way out of an ocean of guilt and grief, it must have seemed like a lifeline. But, um… he did too much one night.” He bit his trembling lips, trying to hold back tears at the memory. “I came home, and I found him… just lying there… couldn’t wake him up.”

Derek exhaled tremulously, his eyes going out of focus. Stiles could have _died_ weeks ago and Derek had never even known anything was wrong. He reached over and placed his hand on Noah’s shoulder again, wanting to offer comfort.

Noah shook his head, wiping at his cheeks in vain. “Melissa came over and helped me. Got him fixed up off the books. He said it wasn’t intentional, and I believe him. I honestly don’t think it was. With how guilty he feels, I doubt he would have ever wanted to put that on top of it. He said it was done, you know? That he was going to stop. But after that… I was too afraid to just trust it. I started keeping a closer eye on him. I had Parrish and a couple others checking in on him a few times each shift as discretely as possible. And then _today_ … well… I guess it was yesterday by now… it was… um… Allison…” Noah’s voice cracked as he tried to get the words out.

Derek closed his eyes and sighed as realization washed over him. “Allison’s birthday.”

Noah gritted his teeth as tears rolled down his face. He nodded. “Stiles didn’t tell anybody how much he was struggling with it. Scott and the others were all heading over to her grave and they asked him to come. He opted out; told them he wasn’t ready. And everybody just accepted that, you know? Didn’t push. I can’t even blame them. They have all just been doing what they think is best to help him…

“Parrish found him out at the lookout point about an hour ago. Sitting on the Jeep. Out of his mind with grief. He’d had to pull over because he was crying too hard, and then after he stopped he got too wasted to get back behind the wheel. Had his bags packed and was leaving. And I _know_ he was never gonna come back. He was gonna hit the road, drop off the radar, and none of us would ever have been able to find out what happened to him.

“He’s… um… he’s real low. Can’t see a way out. Not really in his right head at the moment. Keeps saying that he doesn’t want to…” Noah trailed off and shook his head, unable to repeat the words. “I said I was going to get him some help. Put him on a suicide watch. Get him in with a psychiatrist or something. And he just looked me dead in the eyes, laughed, and asked, ‘ _Who am I gonna tell, Dad? Who is gonna believe me?_ ’ I swear to God, I have never in my entire life felt as powerless to help my child as I did in that moment. Because… he’s absolutely right. I can’t take him anywhere. I can’t get him any help. They won’t believe him. They’ll think he just hallucinated the entire thing. They will lock him up and throw away the key and that is the exact opposite of help.

“But all the booze and pills he has in his system at the moment may have proven useful after all, because it was while he was sobbing and rambling without a filter that he inadvertently gave me an idea. You know the way his brain works. Always looking for patterns and trends. Well, he noted… _similarities_ … A sort of recurring theme: causing the deaths of loved ones against your will and having to learn to live with that guilt. Knowing logically that it’s not your fault, even when you don’t think you will ever be able to make your heart believe it. Trying to keep on breathing even when you lose the will to do so. Even when you feel like you’ll never forgive yourself.”

Noah paused, looking back and forth between the wolves before recalling, “He laughed through tears and he said, ‘ _Damn, Dad… I’m like an honorary Hale now_ ’.”

Derek’s mouth dropped open.

Peter frowned deeply as he considered it. After a moment, he breathed, “ _Shit…_ ”

“I mean…” Derek began, unable to form a sentence.

“Jesus, even _Malia_ …” Peter muttered in surprise. He turned toward Derek, his face contorting as the truth of Stiles’ words sunk in. “He’s right. He really is an honorary Hale at this point.”

Derek grunted in agreement, unable to speak while his thoughts swirled in a million directions considering Stiles’ words. He ached at the war that was raging inside Stiles’ mind, at the suffering he had kept to himself. He felt the sting of failure for trusting his senses when his gut told him Stiles must be struggling. His wolf side was a mess of its own – torn between wanting to comfort Stiles and protect him, while also howling in approval at the teen declaring himself to be a part of the family.

Noah waited a moment before continuing. “He didn’t want me to tell anyone, but I can’t just sit back and do nothing. I can’t have him dying by accident one of these days when he tries to numb the pain. I can’t have him following through on his plan to take off so he can die intentionally without any of us knowing. I can’t take him to a professional to talk this through. He has no options. But he has _you_.” Noah’s eyes locked with Derek’s and he leaned closer. “He trusts you, Derek. He respects you. He will listen to you. So, I had to come here to ask… Would you be willing to try and help him?”

“Absolutely,” Derek answered solemnly and without hesitation.

Noah exhaled heavily, his shoulders slumping as if a great weight had been lifted. His eyes flicked over to Peter then cautiously and was relieved when he nodded in agreement. 

“Thank you,” Noah whispered before pulling out his phone and making the call. “Yeah, Parrish – you think you can manage bringing him up, or do you need help?”

Parrish’s reply was clear to the wolves’ ears. “I should be able to manage. Whatever he’s on, it’s… uh… hitting another upswing. He’s happy again. At least, for the time being,” Parrish answered.

“Okay. Call for a hand if he gives you any trouble,” Noah said.

Stiles’ incredulous, overly-jovial, and clearly inebriated voice shouted from the back seat over the line, “Trouble? You think I’m gonna _run_ for it? Where would I even gonna go, Dad? You set the wolves on me – literally! You think I can outrun a freaking _Hale_? Not even on a good day! And sure as shit not tonight – I can’t even walk a straight line!”

Peter and Derek exchanged a mildly amused look at that.

Parrish sighed heavily into the phone and muttered, “We’ll be right up.”

Noah put his phone in his pocket and took a steadying breath, pinching the bridge of his nose and praying for strength. When the elevator neared their floor, the sound of Stiles singing ‘I Fought the Law’ at the top of his lungs finally reached Noah’s ears. He winced and looked over to Derek and Peter apologetically. “Do me a favor and just…try to remember that this is not your typical Stiles. This is an extremely depressed, traumatized Stiles who set out with the singular goal to get as thoroughly wasted as possible without OD-ing. To say that he’s shitfaced would be a massive understatement.”

The elevator came to a halt as Stiles called out, “Just tell ‘em I’m stoned like a biblical whore, Pops!”

Parrish slid the elevator door open while helping Stiles remain upright, looking thoroughly exhausted from the time he had spent with the teen up until that point.

“Okay, Jordan. You can relax. You’re free of me,” Stiles declared. He clapped the deputy on the back several times before pushing off of him and stumbling out into the loft. His face lit up in a big, goofy grin when he focused on Derek. “Heeyyyyy, Der-bear!” he greeted excitedly. In a burst of short-lived coordination, he rushed forward and collided with the werewolf, wrapping his long arms around him tightly. 

Derek’s eyes widened in surprise as the unexpectedly exuberant embrace forced him to take a few steps backward to regain his balance. His brows drew together as he realized this was the first time he and Stiles had ever hugged. Hell, it was the first hug he’d received since Cora… and since Laura before her. His first non-familial hug in _years_ , actually, as he and Jenifer hadn’t ever really just hugged for the sake of hugging…

Pushing back his thoughts, Derek recovered quickly, bringing an arm up to wrap around the teen’s back. “Stiles,” he greeted quietly and brought his other hand up to ruffle his hair affectionately. Another first for them, but the action came naturally in that moment.

When it became clear that Stiles would not be letting go any time soon, Derek breathed in deeply, trying to take the opportunity to properly scent the teen. He was disappointed to find that whatever amulets Stiles had employed must be in play – he could not catch so much as a single trace of the copious amounts of booze and pharmaceuticals Stiles had clearly consumed, nor his emotions. He frowned to himself as he wondered at that. When the Sheriff had arrived, the scent of Stiles’ inebriation and grief had clung to the man like a second skin. Whatever Stiles was using to mask his scent must have been removed at some point, only to be reactivated before he came upstairs.

Stiles sighed blissfully into Derek’s shoulder and muttered suddenly, “Mmph… _God_ , you always smell amazing!”

Caught off guard by the comment, Derek let slip a rare clip of genuine laughter and shook his head. He felt his cheeks flush lightly in embarrassment at the praise but decided he didn’t mind. Drunk Stiles was actually kind of adorable.

Stiles continued happily huffing away before asking, “Seriously, what is that? Is it, like, a _Derek_ thing or a born-wolf thing? Because Scott always just smells like armpits and wet dog to me.”

Derek fought back a laugh at the rambling. His eyes moved over to where Peter was chuckling and the Sheriff was covering his face with a hand, groaning at his son’s level of intoxication.

“Malia smells good,” Stiles continued, “but not like _you_ good, you know? So, maybe wolves just smell better than coyotes in general. But wait… No, because Cora doesn’t smell _you_ good, either. Huh. Maybe it _is_ just you!”

_Yeah, this is going to be a long night_ , Derek thought to himself.

Taking a steadying breath, Stiles finally stepped back, but only far enough to look up at Derek. The mood between them shifted suddenly, feeling unexpectedly intimate as Derek was able to study his features in more detail than ever. Stiles’ amber eyes were glassy and bloodshot. His eyelids were heavy, as if he might fall asleep at any moment. He kept a hand on the back of Derek’s neck, gripping it partly in affection, partly to keep himself standing.

When Stiles spoke again, his voice was gravelly and much lower. His tone was weary and more private, tinged ever-so-slightly with the sadness being temporarily held at bay. “Long time no see, man… Guess I’ve got myself to blame for that, right? That’s what happens when I actively avoid you.” He gave a humorless laugh, shaking his head as his thumb rubbed circles at the nape of Derek’s neck. After a few seconds, he asked in a surprisingly gentle voice, “How’ve you been doin’, big guy? You good?”

Derek’s brows drew together as he studied Stiles’ features, struggling to read the unfamiliar emotion swirling in his eyes. Before he could even think of a reply, Stiles’ mood shifted fast enough to give him whiplash. The chemicals coursing through the human’s bloodstream were making it impossible to hold onto any thought or feeling for longer than a minute at a time.

Stiles’ expression shifted to a grin and voice returned to the boisterous, jovial tone it had been before. “Sorry to show up uninvited on you like this but, you know, they had me locked up in the back of the patrol car, so I didn’t really get any say.”

“It’s no problem, Stiles. Really,” Derek assured sincerely. “You’re always welcome here.”

Stiles cocked his head to the side and studied Derek’s face in response, as if assessing the truth of his words. After a moment, his expression unexpectedly soured and he leaned his head back, licking at his dry lips in vain, frowning at the shortage of saliva in his mouth. Keeping his hand on Derek’s neck, he turned and looked around the loft hopefully, stopping when he spotted Peter at the kitchen counter. Smiling broadly, he set out across the space, using various furniture and walls for support as he walked. “Peter! You creepy, homicidal son of a bitch – you got any bottles of water back there?”

Having already anticipated the request, Peter held up a bottle in reply. “I do. Although I’m certain we don’t have nearly enough on hand to stave off the colossal hangover that awaits you in the morning.”

Stiles waved him off as he approached. “Oh, I’m not worrying about that… or anything else tonight, come to think of it. You’ll find I very deliberately have zero fucks to give. I sufficiently self-medicated to ensure it.” Snatching the proffered beverage from Peter’s hand, he managed a quick, “God, thank you,” while making short work of opening the cap. He downed the water noisily, gulping as rivulets dripped down his chin and onto his shirt in his haste to hydrate. He gasped for air once he had drained the entire bottle. Waving his hand imploringly, he urged, “Just keep ‘em coming, dude. I got cottonmouth so freaking bad right now, it feels like my tongue is gonna fuse to the roof of my mouth.”

Peter quirked a brow as he handed over another bottle. After pursing his lips and taking Stiles’ desperate guzzling of the new bottle into consideration, he leaned down and retrieved four more bottles and placed them on the counter in front of the teen.

Derek made his way across the loft to the kitchen, his movements fluid as he clung to the edge of the space. He watched Stiles curiously, wanting to ask a million questions, but unsure of where to start or what he should even say tonight. His eyes went to Parrish and Noah, knowing that they would have to be gone before he could make any attempts at a conversation.

“School is closed Monday for the holiday… Stiles should stay here this weekend,” Derek announced, addressing the Sheriff. “None of the pack will be stopping by until at least Tuesday afternoon, so it’ll work out. You should head home, get some sleep. Maybe bring him a bag tomorrow with some clothes and anything else you think he might need?”

Noah frowned thoughtfully, his eyes passing between Stiles and Derek as he considered whether or not to go along with this. He exhaled eventually, nodding to himself that this was what he had asked for, after all. He had to trust Derek to take it from here. “Yeah. I’m due at the station tomorrow at noon. I can stop off here on the way in. By the looks of it, Stiles will still be asleep by then.”


	3. Chapter 3

The Sheriff gave his son a hug and kissed his forehead before heading toward the door.

Derek walked him to the elevator and after saying goodbye to him and the Deputy, he went back inside and rolled the door closed. When he turned and started into the loft interior, he stopped mid-step and held his hands up at the perplexing scene before him.

Stiles was on the far end of the room leaning precariously over the back of the couch. His ass was sticking up in the air and everything above his waist was hanging over the edge and hidden by the couch.

Derek quirked a brow and scrunched up his face, far too confused to pause and admire the view.

Peter was standing notably close to the inebriated teen, trying to appear nonchalant but clearly preparing to catch Stiles in case he took a header.

Derek smirked and approached curiously. When he rounded the couch, he saw that Stiles was rifling through what was basically the lost and found box for the loft. Derek was forever stumbling across random clothes, schoolbooks, and other miscellaneous things left behind by the pack. He had long since given up on trying to track down the owner of each item and had taken to just tossing the items into the box for them to locate later.

“Ooh! Scotty left his speakers here!” Stiles practically shrieked in delight. “Freaking _sweet_ – we need music!” With a hand from Derek, he managed to get back onto the couch and quickly got to work linking up his phone and finding a playlist.

“We do?” Derek asked, arching a brow.

“Abso-freaking-lutely!” Stiles said, pointing over at him and grinning. “Look, I’ve got at least a couple more hours of this insane energy left in me and while I _could_ expend it by rambling incessantly about every single thought and fact that pops into my head – for instance, did you know there are 25 major lunar events coming up in the next 5 years alone? One of which hasn’t happened in 2,000 years. I dug into the few surviving texts from last time it rolled through and, apparently, odds are pretty damned high that _all of you_ wolfy bastards – yourselves included – are going to be unrepentantly ravenous, homicidal, _and_ horny for 3 days straight.” He took a swig of water, pointing to the surprised wolves in amusement as he added, “No worries, though. We’ve got a couple years to plan for that one. I’ll be sure to let you guys know the exact date so you can stock up on chains…” He frowned thoughtfully. “…or lube.. or whatever else you’ll need for whatever activities you decide to do to amuse yourselves.” He shrugged and went on, “ _Anyway_ , as opposed to pulling back the curtain and subjecting you both to the never-ending torrent of randomness that is my internal thought process, I figured this is a probably a preferable alternative.”

Peter winced before turning to Derek and forcing a smile. “We _need_ music.”

Derek tilted his head and sighed in agreement. “We need music.”

Stiles fist pumped victoriously.

Music filled the loft, reverberating off the high ceilings and throughout the open space.

(Song: _Hello – Single Edit by Martin Solveig, Dragonette_ )

Stiles’ eyes rolled closed as he let it wash over him.

It started with his head and neck…

Swaying and rolling slowly in time with the beats…

When the bass picked up, his movements matched the rhythm…

It continued down his body…

Rolling like a wave…

To his shoulders and abdomen…

His hips and knees…

When the beats accelerated, his feet got involved…

When the vocals started, he began turning in place…

When the chorus began, Stiles… just… let _… go_ …

His entire body was instantly in motion, every part of him moving expertly in time with all of the beats, so fluid and hypnotic, it defied reason.

Derek and Peter sank down heavily on the couch and watched in disbelief as Stiles proceeded to dance his ass ever loving ass off around the living room.

Peter’s jaw dropped as he cocked his head to the side. “ _Huh_.” he breathed after a few moments.

“Yeah.” Derek agreed with wide eyes, equally stunned.

“Did you… have… _any_ idea… that he could…?” Peter asked haltingly as he motioned in Stiles’ direction.

“None.” Derek answered, shaking his head.

“ _Huh_.” Peter repeated.

Catching the obvious change in Derek’s scent as Stiles rolled his hips and shook his ass, Peter smirked over at his nephew.

“Is this going to be a problem for you?” Peter asked in amusement.

Derek glared over at him in reply.

“Well, I for one am officially intrigued,” Peter declared, clasping his hands on his knee. He let his eyes pass over Stiles’ form lasciviously, knowing it would rile Derek up. “Makes one wonder what… _other…_ hidden talents our dear Stiles may have yet to reveal…”

Derek growled in warning and swore, “I will literally kill you. _Again_.”

Peter snickered at that and looked over at his nephew. “Touchy, touchy.”

“Sourwolf! Dance with me!” Stiles called over the music, drawing the attention of both Hales. He made grabby hands at Derek, giving him a hopeful look.

Derek shifted in his seat and, despite giving Stiles a smile, shook his head. “Sorry. Not gonna happen,” he called back.

Stiles full-on pouted at that – wet bottom lip sticking out and big, doe eyes glittering even as he continued dancing in place.

It had an embarrassingly intense effect on Derek.

Peter smirked over at him knowingly.

Derek clenched his teeth.

“Suit yourself!” Stiles finally relented with a shrug and went back to dancing on his own.

“Oh, yes. You’re in trouble,” Peter chuckled, patting Derek on the shoulder before standing and leaving the room.

Finally free of his uncle’s distracting presence, Derek sat back and watched, entranced as Stiles lost himself in the music.

_________________________________________________

The first downswing hit unexpectedly a few hours later.

Stiles had finally danced to his heart’s content and turned off the music. Following along after Derek, he went to the kitchen for more water. He was sitting on the counter, right in the middle of talking excitedly about something unsurprisingly random when he just… trailed off, staring at the far wall.

With his back to Stiles, Derek wondered for a second what had caught the teen’s fleeting attention. When he turned back, he watched tears filling Stiles’ eyes. The teen’s posture turned inward as the weight settled back on his shoulders.

“Stiles?” Derek called quietly, realizing what was happening and hoping to bring him out of it before it could hit full force. 

“I uh… I’m gonna…” Stiles breathed, getting up in a rush and heading for the elevator.

When Derek moved to block his path, Stiles changed course, trying instead to reach the stairway door. Derek swiftly sidestepped, effectively blocking his hopes of making a hasty exit.

“I have to go, dude. Seriously. I just need to…” Stiles tried tremulously.

Holding up his hands in an attempt to convey that he did not want to physically restrain him, Derek spoke in what he hoped was a calming voice. “It’s okay. You don’t have to leave. Just… talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”

Biting his lips, Stiles shook his head frantically and took a reflexive step away. A single, heavy tear slipped down his face and it was like watching the beginnings of a dam breaking. Stiles was suddenly fighting for air, bringing a hand up to his chest as his breathing became increasingly labored.

“… _nnn_ … can’t…” he gasped and shuffled backward blindly, clumsily – half in retreat from Derek’s attempts to get him to talk, half due to the need to sit before his legs could give out. The instant his calves hit the couch, he sank down onto it and drew his knees up to his chest. Hiding his face away, he fought to suppress the wail that tore its way from his throat.

Derek’s face fell. The teen looked so small and fragile in that moment it made Derek’s wolf rail against him for control. Primal instincts thundered through him in response to Stiles’ distress: _Protect_. _Comfort_.

Derek somehow managed to stave off the wolf howling in his chest, giving his human side the opportunity to try and help. He knelt down in front of Stiles, placing a gentle hand over his, and wincing as he siphoned pain from the teen. Derek’s breathing hitched at the familiar, bone-deep sorrow and self-loathing. While not caused by a physical injury, the intense anguish Stiles was experiencing had an undeniably physical aspect. It pressed in on him like an impossible, unseen weight, crushing his chest and making it difficult to draw a breath.

Stiles wrenched his hand out from beneath Derek’s – unwilling to allow the Alpha to alleviate his suffering.

“Don’t. I deserve it.” Stiles whispered determinedly. He moaned in misery in response to his own declaration, steeling himself to repeat it. “I _deserve_ it. _All_ of it. And… And I don’t want to be here anymore,” he cried brokenly as he looked up into the wolf’s eyes.

The utter hopelessness in his voice was heartrending. Derek was too overwhelmed to attempt to speak in reply. He tilted his head to the side, wordlessly asking him to continue.

“Not like, here in this loft with you. Like… _here_ , here,” Stiles sniffled. He looked down at his hands as he confessed, “I don’t want to be _alive_ anymore, Der.”

Derek could not hold back the whine that escaped his throat in response to that admission. Stiles’ heartbeat attested to the truthfulness of his words. Ignoring Stiles’ weak attempts to shrink away from the comfort, Derek moved to sit beside the teen and pulled him back against his chest, wrapping his arms around him and resting his chin on top of his head. He did not try to take Stiles’ pain this time, but he rocked him slowly, holding on tight as if afraid Stiles would slip away without an anchor.

“It hurts _so bad_ ,” Stiles wept through clenched teeth, tipping his head back against Derek’s shoulder as he sobbed. “It hurts _all the time_. I can’t breathe. I just want to die. She should be here! I shouldn’t! I can still _see_ it… Fuck, I can’t stop seeing it!”

Without warning, Stiles reached up and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes desperately, gasping and crying out at the self-inflicted pain until Derek caught his wrists and stopped him from harming himself any further. 

Stiles fought in vain for a few seconds before giving up. “Oh, God. Every time I close my eyes I relive it. All of it,” he bawled as his body went limp in Derek’s arms. “I see her. I hear her. I see Aiden… I see everyone dead and dying at the station… All those people at the hospital… And it’s all my fault. _All of it_. The Nogitsune was right. They died because I didn’t fight hard enough. I failed them. I failed everybody.” His voice grew quieter as he spoke, his body coming down now from the drugs and alcohol and heavily weakened by the emotional outburst. “God, please… I just want to die, Der. _Please_. Just let me go so I can die. I’ll leave. Nobody will see. It’ll be fine.” 

Derek shook his head determinedly and pressed his cheek to the side of Stiles’ head. Closing his eyes as tears slid down his own face, he held on tighter and whispered hoarsely, “No. _No, Stiles_. Stay here. Stay with us. Stay with me. Please.”

Stiles let out a quiet whimper of defeat at Derek’s denial of his request. Exhaustion was taking him, his eyes rolled back as his lids closed of their own accord. His breathing grew shallow as he muttered, incoherent and barely audible, “… _‘s okay, Der… don’t be sad… lookin’… trade…. bring one back… fix it… if I could… just_ …”

His body went limp as he lost consciousness. 

Derek did not even realize he was crying until he had to blink to see past his tears. He held Stiles tightly as the teen breathed shallowly in sleep. Catching movement out of the corner of his eye, Derek looked up to find Peter standing at the other side of the loft watching Stiles sorrowfully.

“I’m going out for a bit,” Peter said quietly. “Call if you need anything.”

Derek swallowed hard and nodded, watching as his uncle left.

_________________________________________________

Derek was vaguely aware of the sound of Peter returning an hour later. He was far more concerned with the teen slumbering against his chest, though. He did not bother taking his eyes off of Stiles’ peaceful, sleeping face at first as Peter entered the loft and approached.

It wasn’t until he caught scent of his uncle’s intense, turbulent emotions that he looked up worriedly. Something had Peter enraged and heartbroken.

He opened his mouth to ask what was wrong but stopped when Peter dropped a bag noisily onto the coffee table in front of the couch, sending its contents spilling out across the surface.

Stiles startled awake, looking up at Derek in confusion and trying to understand what was happening. He blinked blearily and followed Derek’s line of sight. Wiping his eyes, he sat up, then went pale as a sheet as he focused on the items before him.

“ _You_ …” he whispered before his expression hardened and he glared up at Peter. “You went through my _JEEP_?!” he shouted furiously. “What the _fuck_?”

Peter held his gaze with a fury of his own. “I was merely confirming what you said earlier. You were ‘looking’ for ways to make a ‘trade’ to ‘bring one’ of them ‘back.’” He pointed down at the books and magical ingredients that Derek was cautiously surveying. “This is _necromancy_ , Stiles. And the very worst kind. If you do this, you surrender your soul.”

Derek’s eyes snapped up to Stiles, utterly horrified that the teen had even considered this, let alone done so much in preparation to actually go through with it.

“ _Stiles_ …” Derek breathed in anguish.

Stiles’ features were a mask of outrage, but his eyes betrayed his pain. He pointedly avoided Derek’s gaze and continued glaring at Peter.

Peter glared back as he warned, “There is literally not a single instance in all of recorded history where a spell like this has gone well for the caster. What you resurrect will _not_ be the same as the person who died, you do realize that, right? It will be a shell – a revenant host for any number of horrors that will hitch a ride into our realm. And as for you? Well, ceasing to exist would be the best-case scenario, but the likelihood is that your fate would be something _far worse_.” His features twisted as he asked incredulously, “You don’t think I’ve researched all of this already? You don’t think I’ve looked for ways to bring the rest of our family back?”

“You came back!” Stiles challenged.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Not the same, Stiles. Think! I managed to bring myself back, yes, but _only_ because I prepared for it _before_ dying and it was _only_ possible because of the unique combination of my Alpha spark and my link to Lydia as she came into her Banshee powers. One in a million shot. This? What you’re considering? This is _seriously_ dark magic. The cost is _always_ too great.” 

“Maybe it’s not,” Stiles replied stubbornly, voice rough and broken. “Maybe I don’t care what it costs me.”

“You think so?” Peter scoffed. “What about the cost to your father? To your friends? What if your soul is used against them?”

Stiles’ flinched ever so slightly at that.

Peter went on. “What if something darker, older, and more powerful than a Nogitsune slips into your vacant body without you in there to try and fight it off for their sakes? Hmm? What then? What damage could, say, a _demon_ do to your loved ones with access to everything you know, feel, and think? You would be surrendering yourself to the highest bidder with zero say in how you are to be used after the deal is struck. The cost is TOO. GREAT. Always.”

Stiles swallowed hard and sank back against the couch, eyes downcast and brimming with tears. He stared down at his hands as if he no longer trusted them. “I just… want to _do_ something. I just want to make it right.”

Derek reached over and slid his hand into Stiles’, gripping it tightly and waiting for Stiles to look him in the eyes.

“I know.” Derek offered softly and sincerely. 

Stiles’ breath hitched and face crumpled at that; at the first _genuine_ understanding he had received for what he was feeling. Because, yeah, Derek most definitely did know what it felt like to want more than _anything_ to make things right, to fix things, to bring them back somehow.

Stiles burst into tears, covering his face in a pointless attempt to hide his emotions. When Derek pulled him over and wrapped his arms around him tightly, Stiles went without hesitation, burying his face against Derek’s shoulder and bawling his eyes out.

_________________________________________________

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** _Oof_. LOL This one's heavy, but will end happily!

What do you think so far? Love it? Hate it? Favorite parts? 

Remember - your comments = writing motivation! <3 


	4. Chapter 4

Half an hour later, Stiles finally managed to stop crying and settled into a bone-weary silence.

“Thank you,” he said quietly when Peter offered him a mug of tea.

“You are most welcome,” Peter answered, giving the teen’s shoulder a squeeze before taking a seat across from him.

Derek was affixed to Stiles’ side. Peter noted that his nephew had the teen wrapped up in a warm, fluffy blanket and looked half a step away from pulling him back into his lap again – as if he wanted to bundle his precious baby Stiles up and shield him from the world.

Peter hid his smile by sipping his own tea. He hoped the two oblivious, pining fools would figure things out soon.

“So… what now?” Stiles asked cautiously, glancing back and forth between the Hales.

“We decide what to do from here,” Derek declared. “I think… the escapism is fine, but in moderation. I did my fair share of it over the years and I know how much pain you’re in. I’m not going to tell you to completely stop with the drinking and the drugs, but you do need to scale it back. And you need someone to keep an eye on you while you do it. No more doing any of that unless you’re with me, got it?”

Stiles grudgingly nodded.

“And the amulets… or whatever you’re using to block your scent and heartrate…” Derek began and watched as Stiles looked up at him in panic. “…they have to go, at least while you’re here, and any time you’re under the influence, even if we’re not here at the loft. We can’t help you if we can’t tell how you’re really doing. You can hide from everyone else if you feel like you need to. I completely understand the desire to mask your emotions.” he said purposefully.

Stiles smiled lightly before deadpanning, “ _What?_ Nooooo. You’ve always been such an open book.”

Derek fought back a smile and shook his head. “What I’m saying is, I get it. But you can’t hide from us, okay? We want to help you. You have to be open with us.”

After a moment of obvious reluctance, Stiles nodded and reached under his shirt, pulling out a jumble of necklaces and slowly slipping them off over his head.

The change was instantaneous. Both Hales winced as their senses were finally free to get a clear read on Stiles’ physical and emotional state.

Derek wrapped an arm around Stiles in response to the overpowering grief, exhaustion, self-hatred, guilt, and depression rolling off the teen, in addition to the acrid smell of drugs and booze.

Stiles’ eyes were bright with unshed tears and he cleared his throat, fidgeting in a way that made it clear just how vulnerable he was feeling. He drank his tea in silence for a while before finding his voice. “So, I can still get messed up, but only with you around to supervise, and no wearing amulets around you. What else?”

Derek considered it for a moment before adding, “Any time you get wasted, we have to talk once you sober up. Think of it as a balance – you can run away from your problems for a while, but you have to face them when you come back.”

Stiles arched an incredulous brow over at the Alpha. “Wait, seriously? You… _YOU?_ … Mr. Derek ‘I don’t use my words’ Hale are now advocating open communication? I must still be stoned.”

Derek rolled his eyes and withdrew his arm from around Stiles’ shoulders so he could sit forward and turn to face him properly. “We shouldn’t try to emulate my personal methods… at all,” he joked. “In fact, my journey would better serve as a cautionary tale of things to _avoid_ while trying to heal. At least, until recently, anyway.”

“Oh yeah? What ended up finally helping you?” Stiles asked curiously as he set his mug down on the table.

Derek smiled lightly. “It was actually a two-part system: You and Scott.”

“Really?” Stiles asked, genuinely surprised.

“ _Really?_ ” Peter echoed, curling his lip in appalled disbelief.

“Yeah,” Derek confirmed. “I actually hadn’t healed at all by the time I met you two. Not for a lack of trying on Laura’s part, but…” He shrugged, recalling his mental state. “I just couldn’t let go of all the rage, guilt, and pain. I was still just so unbelievably angry every second of every day. Then Laura was killed…”

Peter took a steadying breath, his eyes going out of focus as he dealt with his own regrets and horrible memories.

“I came back here for the first time since the fire…” Derek closed his eyes and winced. “…and it was an absolute nightmare. I was completely alone. I had lost everyone. I was in a tailspin, reliving everything. I was trying to find out what happened to Laura, but I was just going through the motions. Part of me really hoped that if I found the Alpha responsible, they’d kill me, too, and be done with it. I was trying to focus on avenging my sister, but really, I wanted more than anything to just _die_ already. To just lay down and give up. To finally be with my family again. I was so broken and lost. And then… there you two idiots were.” He opened his eyes, shaking his head as he smiled at the memory of finding them in the Preserve.

Stiles winced and asked hopefully, “Uh, by idiots do you mean ‘ _dashing, young heroes_ ’?” He squinted and worried his bottom lip between his teeth as he waited for a reply.

“No. I mean idiots,” Derek confirmed flatly. “In the beginning, Scott was stumbling blindly into our world with no choice in the matter, and you were right there beside him, willingly running headlong toward the danger with zero sense of self preservation.”

Stiles huffed and snuggled back into the blanket as he commented in a singsong voice, “Sounds an awful lot like a hero to me!”

Derek arched a brow at that but chose not to reply. “I remember watching Scott with Allison – how absolutely _stupid_ he was over her, how he flat out _refused_ to listen to reason... And, Jesus, seeing the way you worshipped the ground Lydia walked on even though she didn’t even notice you.”

Stiles cringed and grimaced. “Not my finest hour, I will freely admit.”

“And you were always walking around so damned sexually frustrated…” Derek went on.

Stiles’ mouth dropped open. “I…beg…your… _pardon!”_ he squawked in mock indignation.

“What?” Derek asked, fighting back a laugh. “It’s true. You always smelled like you desperately needed to get laid.”

Stiles scowled playfully, though a deep blush colored his cheeks. Seeing Peter’s eyes locked on him, he cleared his throat, averting his gaze and fighting the urge to point out just how adorably wrong Derek was in interpreting his scent. He settled for making the vaguely incredulous comment of, “Is that what I smelled like?” (He left unsaid ‘ _or was it just that I always smelled turned on whenever_ you _were around?_ ’)

“Well, he’s in the right neighborhood…” Peter sighed in disappointment, looking to Stiles with a knowing smile as he added, “…just not quite on your street, is he?”

At the confirmation that Peter was fully aware of what Derek had always missed, Stiles sunk down lower into his seat.

Derek glanced back and forth between them curiously, but continued, “Anyway, I remember being so irritated with you both over… well, basically everything. I could not understand why you were so resistant to everything I said. I was pissed, thinking how immature you both were acting. I sat back one day and tried to imagine either of you two knuckleheads dealing with what I had when I was 16. I wondered how you would have handled going through what I had with Paige, and how – while you were at your lowest – you would have fared against a woman in her early 20s pulling out all the stops to seduce and manipulate you.

“I knew Scott would never stand a chance, but what really got me was the realization that even _you_ – as smart as you are – would have fallen right into that trap.” Derek shook his head. “And then I realized, in those hypothetical scenarios, that I automatically saw you both as victims. I wouldn’t blame you at all. I would only blame her. I would be furious on your behalf. My first instincts would actually be to _protect_ you from her.

“And that... well, that was what finally did it. Because of you two, I was able to look back at my 16-year-old self through the eyes of an adult for the first time. I was finally able to see myself for what I had been: a victim. I was finally able to forgive myself for being so stupid, and to know in my heart that my family would have felt the same way. My mother wouldn’t have hated or blamed me – she would have wanted to protect me.”

Peter smiled sadly and nodded at that, knowing it was the truth. Talia would have skinned Kate alive, quite literally, if she had known what was happening.

Derek sighed as he finished, “And after that? I was finally able to start letting go of the anger.”

Stiles held Derek’s gaze for a moment, marveling at the changes he could see in the man since the day they had met. The idea that he could have inadvertently helped Derek to heal was beyond amazing. It made his heart swell. When he saw Derek start to fidget a bit under the warmth and intensity of his gaze, he blinked and switched over to joking around.

“So, that’s why you’re such a Zenwolf now,” he commented with a grin. “Well… I’m glad our idiocy helped you. Here I thought my holding your paralyzed, heavy, wolfy ass up in that pool for over two hours was my biggest achievement in helping you – but no. Turns out it was actually my being an easily manipulated, depressingly sex-starved teenager. Who knew?” When Derek tried to talk, he held up a hand. “No, really, I’m relieved to know that my personal overwhelming aroma of perpetual horny desperation served the greater good.”

Stiles smiled victoriously when Derek rolled his eyes and huffed.

Derek gave him a fond smile before saying seriously, “The bottom line is, you have a long road ahead of you, but you will get through this. And I can tell you now, I wouldn’t have fared any better against the Nogitsune than you did. I doubt I would have been able to fight it as effectively, either. And I _know_ how hard you fought. Even when we couldn’t see it.”

At that, Stiles’ looked at him in astonishment. “You do?” he asked, weak and hopeful. “H-how do you know?”

“I could smell it on you,” Derek recalled. “Even when he was in control, I could smell the constant internal battle. Your grief, regret, anxiety, fear, and rage over what he was doing. You _did_ fight, Stiles. You gave it _everything_ you had, and you never gave up.”

Heavy tears rolled down Stiles’ cheeks and he closed his eyes, biting his lips and wincing at the relief of hearing that someone had known he tried to make it stop. He always felt like the fight he put up was not real or did not count because he had not succeeded, because no one could ever see it. But hearing that his efforts had been noticed… It gave him a sense of validation. He sniffled and reached up to wipe at his tears with trembling hands, nodding in appreciation for Derek’s words.

“This wasn’t your fault,” Derek said determinedly. “This wasn’t something you ‘ _let’_ happen. This was something that was done _TO_ you. You were a victim in this, too. The biggest victim, in fact.”

Stiles scoffed and looked down at his hands, tears still falling as he replied bitterly, “Yeah, I think Allison and Aiden would strongly disagree with you on that.”

“Really?” Derek challenged. “You don’t think – given the choice – that Allison would have rather died than be trapped inside her mind and forced to watch as her own hands were used to hurt her friends and family? To kill innocent people? If she were here, she would tell you that what you went through was worse than death. None of us can begin to imagine everything you endured, but we all know that things would have been just as bad - if not _worse_ \- if the Nogitsune had possessed anyone else. Before you can start to heal, you are going to have to stop blaming yourself.”

Stiles frowned and sat in silence, mulling over those words.

Derek left him to his thoughts for a few moments before standing and reaching out his hand. “Come on. Up,” he urged.

“Bossy,” Stiles huffed, taking Derek’s hand, and allowing himself to be hauled up onto his feet. He stared down at his hand in surprise when Derek did not release it, instead tugging him along by it and leading him out of the room.

“Good Night, Stiles,” Peter called over his shoulder with a grin as the other two left. 

“Night!” Stiles called back cheerfully.

“You think you can manage a shower?” Derek asked once they were down the hall, brows drawn together as he turned and tried to gauge Stiles’ condition.

Taking a moment to consider it, Stiles nodded. “Don’t have a change of clothes, though.”

“I’ll give you something,” Derek offered.

 _“Oh, I’ll bet you would!”_ Peter chuckled from the living room just loud enough for Derek to hear. _“You should probably help him in the shower, dear nephew. Wouldn’t want him to slip, now would you?”_

Derek closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. Lydia was right. Peter really was Satan in a V-neck.

After finding a t-shirt and boxers for Stiles to wear – and ignoring the way his wolf positively rejoiced at the thought of Stiles being covered in his scent – he handed Stiles a towel and sent him in to get a shower.

He kept an ear on Stiles’ heartrate and movements the entire time, really not wanting to invade his privacy, but a thought had occurred to him that… _maybe he should have made sure Peter hadn’t left any razors in there?_ And that, of course, had sent Derek into a blind panic. So yeah, he tracked Stiles while he showered and felt completely terrible about it. He was internally praying that Stiles did not take the opportunity to jerk off. He honestly did not think he could handle listening to that.

When the water turned off, and he heard Stiles drying off and getting dressed, Derek breathed a giant sigh of relief.

Stiles exited the bathroom looking a bit more alive.

“Feel better?” Derek asked, trying to get his own heartrate under control after his freak out.

“Yeah. A little. Thanks, man,” Stiles answered, rubbing at his damp hair self-consciously.

“You’re welcome,” Derek said with a warm smile. “Now, come on. You need to sleep. Honestly, I have no idea how you’re even conscious right now.”

Stiles huffed a laugh as he followed along. “Well, personally, I find all the horrific, traumatic night terrors to be a great motivator for staying awake.”

Derek frowned at that. “You didn’t dream when you were sleeping earlier,” he pointed out.

Stiles opened his mouth, then stopped, tilting his head to the side as he considered it. “True… which is actually weird… but it was probably a fluke. I mean, I gave my body every reason to need to crash. My brain was probably too exhausted to dream. And maybe I – Wait, isn’t this your bedroom?” he stopped to ask in confusion.

Derek smirked and teased deadpan, “As perceptive as ever, Stiles. However do you do it?” 

Stiles fidgeted and played with his fingers, willing his stupid unmasked scent and heartrate to keep his automatic interest in this situation under wraps. “You… um… _Why_ am I not sleeping on the couch?” he asked anxiously.

“Because I’m not a shitty host,” Derek snarked as he grabbed one of his pillows and tossed it on the floor beside the bed.

“Ah! Okay. See, this makes much more sense. I get the floor, right?” Stiles asked.

Derek gave him a supremely incredulous look. “No. You take the bed. I’ll take the floor. Trust me, I’ve slept in way less comfortable places.”

When Derek started unbuckling his pants, Stiles quietly gasped, “Oh… my… G-y-od!” He slapped a hand against his forehead, gripping his temples and shielding his eyes from the sight of Derek taking off his pants. He really did not need that visual in his head right now. “Yeah, but see, now I’m gonna feel like an asshole for kicking you out of your own bed,” he griped. “I can just take the couch. Or, if you insist on me taking the bed, why don’t _you_ take the couch?”

“Stiles.” Derek said in that trademark ‘so done’ tone. “The couch sucks for sleeping. And this way, if you do have a nightmare, I’m right here.”

Against his better judgement, Stiles raised his hand and peeked out to see whether Derek was finished. He was. But the new visual was even worse.

Standing in a t-shirt and black boxer briefs, Derek had his bitch face on and was pointing determinedly in the direction of the mattress as he ordered, “Now, shut up and get in my bed.”

Stiles’ mouth formed a tight line as his brain short circuited. Sighing and closing his eyes, he prayed that amongst _aalllllll_ the other things going on with his scent, his spike of intense arousal would go unnoticed.

“Yeah. Sure. This is me. Shutting up and getting in your bed,” Stiles muttered as he scrambled up onto the giant, _ridiculously_ comfortable mattress. His mouth dropped open in disbelief as he crawled. “Dude, what the HELL? Why is your bed like laying on a cloud? Oh my God!” he groaned before launching forward and flopping down into the pillows face-first. “ _I take it back. Keep the floor. I’m never leaving this bed_ ,” he declared, voice muffled by the pillows.

Derek arched a brow and swallowed hard. Right. This was fine. Stiles was just covered in his scent, smelling like arousal, and groaning loudly in his bed. _Totally_ fine. He could handle this.

Clearing his throat, Derek quickly turned off the light and took his place on the floor.

“Good Night, Stiles,” he said as he closed his eyes.

“ _Night, Sourwolf_ ,” Stiles sighed back contentedly.

Derek shuddered and rolled over, punching his pillow into a better position before settling in.

_________________________________________________

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** What do you think so far? Love it? Hate it? Favorite parts? 

Remember - your comments = writing motivation! <3 


	5. Chapter 5

Derek woke with a jolt, brow furrowed as his senses registered his surroundings. _Stiles…_ The teen’s familiar jackrabbit heartbeat had ratcheted up suddenly enough to jar him awake. He breathed in deep, catching the salty scents of fresh tears and anxious sweat.

Getting up onto his feet, Derek watched the huddled form of the teen in his bed, waiting to see if he would need to intervene. His head tilted and features softened sympathetically as Stiles wept in his sleep, shaking his head and murmuring, “… _‘m sorry… please… didn’t mean to… I’m so sorry_ …”

It brought back so many memories. So many years spent fearing sleep and the ghosts he would find there. Derek gritted his teeth and boxed it all up for now. He had reached a point where he could face the memories without losing himself, but for now, he needed to focus on helping _Stiles_ get through his suffering.

Jarred from his thoughts, Derek’s eyes went wide, every muscle in his body tensing as a horrified wail tore its way from Stiles’ throat.

In an instant the teen was thrashing and screaming, fighting off an unseen attacker.

“Stiles! Stiles, wake up!” Derek shouted, hoping to be heard over the teen’s cries. He took an instinctive step forward, but stopped, his hands clenching indecisively at his sides. _Would_ _it make it worse to hold him still? Would it make Stiles’ dreams feel more real?_ His wolf railed against him for control. It had already been seeking out every possible excuse to touch and comfort the human since his arrival that night, so holding back in that moment – when Stiles was so clearly in need of help – was nearly impossible. His eyes flashed, voice deepening as his wolf joined the call, “ _STILES!”_

Lost within his nightmares, the teen continued shrieking in anguish. “No! Let me out! LET ME OUT! Please don’t –! _Please!”_ he begged desperately before throwing his head back and letting out a long, utterly terrified scream.

And that did it – the sound broke something inside of Derek’s heart and had him moving before he even made the conscious decision to intervene. He slid across the mattress, gathering Stiles up as he moved, wrapping his arms around his flailing form.

“Shh… shh… _shh_ … You’re safe now… It’s okay… You’re safe…” Derek promised as he held him tight.

The teen did not even register the Alpha’s presence, still trapped inside his own mind, kicking and clawing wildly at the horrors he was seeing.

Derek barely noticed as Stiles’ nails dug into his forearms, raking and drawing blood. “It’s okay… You’re okay… I’ve got you…” he muttered frantically against the side of Stiles’ head.

Stiles’ foot caught the bedside table, sending the lamp crashing to the floor. Judging by the thud of the impact, Derek knew that Stiles was going to have a hell of a bruise in the morning. If he did not do something, Stiles was going to seriously harm himself. Getting a better grip, he brought a leg up and wrapped it around Stiles’ calves, holding the teen’s legs in place.

In response to being immobilized, Stiles let out a purely animalistic wail of distress and his heart began beating dangerously fast.

Derek’s eyes widened in panic as the scent of Stiles’ terror filled the room, choking Derek and making his chest ache with regret. _God, he wanted to **help** , not make it **worse**. He should have trusted his initial worries and never laid a hand on Stiles while he was like this_. An involuntary growl of frustration escaped him.

And something unexpected happened in response…

Stiles gasped, his body jolting at the sound. His scent changed, if only for a second. His terror waned, then returned full force as the dream raged on.

Derek’s brow arched in realization. Stiles had _heard_ that. _Felt_ it. Knew what that sound was and who made it. He recognized Derek’s growl enough to be calmed by it.

Without another thought, Derek ducked his face down into the nape of Stiles’ neck. His wolf pushed closer to the surface, eager for the opportunity to comfort. Pressing his chest against the teen’s back and throat against his shoulder, he rumbled – deep and low – just as he could recall his parents doing for him as a child.

Stiles’ entire body rapidly relaxed, his relief clear in his scent as he went all-but limp in Derek’s grasp. Derek kept on rumbling, closing his eyes and listening as Stiles’ breathing evened out and pulse slowed to something more subdued than its normal rhythm.

“…Der?” Stiles croaked after a minute, exhausted but conscious enough to realize what happened.

The rumble tapered off just before Derek answered, “I’m here.” He freed Stiles’ legs from where he had them trapped. He adjusted his arms around him, the hold becoming more relaxed, changing the purpose of his embrace but not letting go.

“I’m sorry…” the teen whispered brokenly through tears, swallowing with difficulty and sounding incredibly ashamed.

Derek shook his head. “Don’t be. I told you, I want to help you.”

“But… you shouldn’t have to,” Stiles sniffled. “Nobody should have to.”

Derek frowned at that, opening his mouth to ask… _why?_ Why, when Stiles always consistently helped everyone else, should he have to go through this alone? Derek did not have the chance to voice his question before Stiles’ scent turned bitter.

“God, why did I have to pull over?” Stiles snarled angrily. “I’m so fucking _stupid_. If I had just kept driving, I’d be long gone by now.”

Derek’s wolf whimpered at the truth of that statement. He held on a little tighter as he declared sincerely, “I’m glad you’re not.” He brought a hand up and began running his fingers through Stiles’ hair, returning to the rumbling that had brought him comfort before. It was instinctual. A sound meant to soothe. And he knew – absolutely _knew_ – that Stiles would refer to it as a purr, but he really didn’t care. He was actually looking forward to the teasing because, when it if inevitably came, it would mean that Stiles was having a moment of relief, feeling comfortable enough to behave like his usual self.

Even fully conscious for the rumbling this time, the effect on Stiles was immediate and intense. His breathing hitched and he sagged further into Derek’s arms, head tipping back to rest on his shoulder. Derek smiled to himself. His wolf was supremely pleased by the response. He was thankful he had at least something in his arsenal to soothe the teen.

Stiles, on the other hand, was thankful his body was too weary to take an interest in their position or Derek’s deep, wolfy rumbling. Mercifully, all he was feeling was warm and _safe_ in a way he could not have imagined. It was overwhelming – this bone-deep sense of security he experienced with the Alpha wrapped around him like this. It made his mind quieter than it had been in a long time.

The relief it caused was dizzying… but he could not help but feel instantly guilty for it. He flinched and tensed as his mind provided a horror reel of the Nogitsune’s greatest hits… _bodies strewn across floors and halls… pleas for mercy… pools of blood_ … A reminder of all the people (God, so many people!) who would never again experience a sense of relief, all because of Stiles’ weakness and inability to stop it.

He swallowed back bile. His nostrils flared and lips trembled as he shook his head, not wanting to be comforted – feeling completely undeserving of it. “This isn’t fair to you,” he choked out through fresh tears. “I’m not your problem. Just a broken mess now. All hollowed out. No use to anyone anymore. It’d be better for everyone if I were gone.”

Derek winced as Stiles’ heartbeat remained steady, attesting to his belief that his words were the truth. “You are _not_ a problem, Stiles. I want you here,” he insisted resolutely.

Stiles huffed in reply, too wrapped up in his pain to believe it.

With a smirk, Derek added, “And, hey… I seem to recall, back when I was at my most broken and hollowed out, I showed up in your bedroom _uninvited_ and made myself right at home.”

Despite his misery, Stiles laughed wetly at that memory. It was unexpected, the way the vivid recollection cut through the gloom in his mind.

“This is true…” He smiled for a moment before huffing in embarrassment, “But shit, at least you didn’t take over my bed or force me to cuddle you through your nightmares.” He shook his head, feeling pitiful. “Fuck. I’m ridiculous,” he sighed.

“You’ve always been ridiculous,” Derek assured flatly. “But you didn’t ‘force’ me to do anything. Now…” He shifted his hold, moving to sit back against the headboard and dragging the teen along with him. He nuzzled in against the side of Stiles’ neck purposefully before growling in that impatient tone he always used when they first met, “…shut the _hell up_ and let me cuddle you.”

Caught completely off guard by the playful words and the achingly familiar grouchy tone, Stiles laughed again, loud and open this time, and his scent swirled with the bright warmth of his heartfelt amusement.

Derek sighed in relief at return of the familiar, deeply missed aroma of a happy Stiles – joy and humor bright like sunshine breaking through the darkness. Derek knew it was fleeting, knew it would vanish just as quickly as it had come, but he was glad for it. Stiles had not smelled like this since before the Nogitsune.

“ _You’re_ ridiculous,” the teen hummed with a smile as he closed his eyes. “And you’re a big ol’ softy-wolf, too. We are _so_ gonna talk about the fact that you purr after I get some sleep.”

Derek’s body shook and he just barely managed to hold back his laughter in response to those words. He ducked his head further into Stiles’ neck to keep it at bay. “It’s _not_ a purr,” he grumbled in mock petulance, earning another laugh in reply.

“Uh huh. Sure _,_ it isn’t, big guy,” Stiles said incredulously. He yawned before asking in a weary, hopeful voice, “Hey, speaking of your macho, wolfy, _supposedly-not-a-purr_ that is, in fact, _so-totally-a-purr_ … would you mind…?”

Derek huffed as if it were a big deal, but he knew Stiles could feel him smiling against his neck as he returned to rumbling.

“Aw, yeah. _That’s_ the stuff,” Stiles sighed with a grin and patted Derek’s bicep appreciatively. He shifted back into the Alpha’s arms, making himself more comfortable. “And don’t worry… I promise I won’t tell anyone you’re secretly a giant teddy bear.”

Shaking his head, Derek refrained from replying, as it would require him to stop making the aforementioned _not-a-purr_. He took a moment to fully appreciate their position. He could not even recall the last time he held someone like this, just for the sake of holding them, no sex involved. He frowned lightly realizing it was the first time he was in bed, holding someone he trusted and _should_ trust. Someone with a good heart and unwavering loyalty…

Unwilling to deal with the landmine that always was his thoughts on Stiles, he chased that line of thought away, choosing instead to simply revel in the closeness as he listened to Stiles drifting off to sleep.

______________________________________________________

Derek woke up first, blinking at the late morning sunlight filtering through the windows. It was nearly noon. He glanced down and smiled at the sight of Stiles still sound asleep in his arms. At some point, he had turned and was now using Derek’s chest as a pillow. The warmth of Stiles’ cheek and breath were seeping through the thin material of Derek’s t-shirt. He suppressed a smile at the small wet spot beside the teen’s mouth, already looking forward to teasing him about drooling on him.

At the sound of the elevator starting up, Derek arched a brow, greatly disliking the idea of having to move from the bed.

“The Sheriff is here to drop off the bag for Stiles,” Peter said quietly out in the main room, knowing that Derek would hear him. “I will inform him that it was a long night and that Stiles is still asleep.” With a smile plain in his voice, he added, “No need to disentangle yourself just yet from whatever undoubtedly _cozy_ position the two of you wound up in…”

Derek let out a huff and shook his head. His irritation instantly melted away when Stiles’ fingers flexed where they were holding onto his bicep. The teen murmured in wordless contentment before leaning in closer, clearly not ready to get up yet.

He listened as the elevator stopped and Peter greeted the Sheriff.

“Stiles sleeping?” Noah asked.

“He is. As is my nephew. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me for now,” Peter joked.

Noah rolled his eyes. “How’d it go?”

Peter pursed his lips. “Better than could be expected, all things considered.”

“Did he talk to you guys at all about… everything?” Noah asked hesitantly.

“He did,” Peter confirmed. “He also danced and even managed to get a shower before finally passing out.”

“And how did… _that_ go?” Noah asked, wincing.

Peter tipped his head back as he recalled, “Well, after he woke up from what sounded to be a _deeply_ unpleasant nightmare, Derek managed to help him get back to sleep. That was…” he paused and looked at the clock. “…several hours ago. He has been out like a light ever since.”

“Seriously?” Noah asked in surprise.

“Yes,” Peter answered.

Noah held up a hand and stressed, “No, wait… you’re telling me that _Stiles_ has been _asleep_ for ‘ _several_ _hours’?_ As in… continuously? As in, he hasn’t woken up? _At all?”_

Derek frowned at the Sheriff’s incredulous tone and glanced down at the peacefully slumbering teen in his arms.

“ _Yeessss_ …” Peter confirmed again, dragging the word out, narrowing his gaze, and arching a brow. “That is what I am trying to tell you. You seem somewhat reluctant to believe me, though.”

Noah’s eyes widened and hand dropped before he explained, “Well _yeah_ , considering he hasn’t slept for more than half an hour at a shot since before all of this started.”

Derek smiled at that revelation, proud that he had already been able to make a difference.

His wolf preened, feeling inordinately smug at having made his human feel safe enough to sleep so soundly.

Derek blinked.

Wait… what? _His_ human?

Brows drawing together, Derek tuned out the rest of the conversation in the other room and chewed the inside of his cheek as he examined his wolf’s instincts.

They were undeniably clear: _His_ human. _His_ Stiles. **_HIS_**.

Oh no. Derek rolled his eyes at the possessive, warning growl that reverberated through his mind. His wolf was clearly willing to fight him on this point.

He tried to decide if he should give in to his kneejerk panic over his wolf wanting to stake such an official claim. He had always known that, given the chance, this might happen. Even his human side had always been exceptionally… aware… of Stiles. Right from day one the teen had been too… well, too _everything_. Distracting. Difficult. Clever. Confusingly alluring… Given his wolf’s blatant fascination with the teen, Derek had always tried to stay cautiously distant. He had to stay on guard, stay vigilant against Stiles’ ability to inch ever closer.

But then Stiles had saved his ass on multiple occasions. And understood him on a level that never ceased to amaze him. And been so staunchly loyal and impossibly headstrong and…

And, okay, if Derek was completely honest with himself, he had been struggling nonstop with his feelings ever since the Nogitsune threatened to take him away. Since Chris Argent declared his willingness to kill Stiles if he felt it was necessary. Derek’s heart had fractured at the possibility of Stiles’ life being cut short before he even reached adulthood. Of the world losing this incredible person and all that he would achieve. Of Derek losing the possibility of ever getting any closer to him. And, of course, he and his wolf had been united in feeling downright murderous at the thought of an Argent threatening someone he lo--- _Fuck!_ – someone he considered pack. Yeah. That’s where he was going with that sentence. _Shut up_.

At this point, it was clear that Derek’s efforts to stay away had all been for naught. _It was that damn drunken hug_ , he thought with an involuntary huff of amusement. He still had at least a slim chance of maintaining his distance right up until that moment, but finding himself with two arms full of an adorably inebriated Stiles had been too much.

And now, Stiles was here. In his bed. In his arms. All warm and relaxed, safe and smelling of contentment, steeped in Derek’s scent. A fond smile spread across Derek’s lips.

With a sigh, he shook his head in resignation. There was nothing for it. He was already a goner. He had fallen for this exasperating, lovable pain in the ass despite his best efforts and there was no going back now. Still, he was not ready to even consider the possibility of claiming the teen as his own. For one, Stiles was still technically a minor – despite already surviving enough horrors to fill several lifetimes. Also, while Derek might be on the path to healing, he still had enough issues with his perceived self-worth to balk at the notion of tying Stiles down. Surely Stiles deserved someone better, right?

His wolf was pacing now in response to his reluctance. Challenging. _Daring_ him to deny its claim.

Derek knew better than to try. Instead, he offered his wolf this alternative as a compromise: _Stiles’_ Derek. _Stiles’_ wolf. We’re **_HIS_**.

His wolf was deeply pleased by Derek’s acquiescence to this incontrovertible fact. He would absolutely continue to assert his claim, but he approved of the progress in his stubborn human half’s thinking.

Man and wolf in agreement, Derek could not suppress the pleased rumble that reverberated through his chest. Stiles sighed in response and nuzzled in closer to the source of the sound. Derek smiled down at him adoringly.

He decided it was best to ignore his concerns for now. Stiles needed him. He would be there for him and deal with the repercussions of his feelings later. For now, he was more than content with the arrangement. And clearly, so was Stiles.

Yawning, he rested his cheek on the top of the teen’s head, closing his eyes as he settled in. Stiles let out a hum of approval.

Yeah, Derek would worry about this later.

_______________________________________________________________

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** What do you think so far? Love it? Hate it? Favorite parts? 

Remember - your comments = writing motivation! <3 


End file.
